


The Plot to Bomb the Panhandle

by charliemanson



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, VIOLENCE give me VIOLENCE, jerry boutta start roamin the earth, like damb das crazy....why did I write this, ooouuuhhhagggjjhh, rick is BIG MAD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22942090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charliemanson/pseuds/charliemanson
Summary: Rick confesses his feelings to Morty while bandaging him up from a physical fight between shitty drunken parents.Basically Morty is really hurt and Pickle boy is pissed and protective.
Relationships: Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith, c137cest - Relationship
Comments: 10
Kudos: 160





	The Plot to Bomb the Panhandle

Morty’s small frame trembled under the immense weight of drunken squabbles. His gentle, brittle hands were curled up into shaking fists as his large eyes were wide and full of water. 

Jerry had come unannounced in the middle of the night, drunk off of his ass and ready to fight. He had met Beth in the kitchen, who was also drinking alone that evening. The two immediately started arguing, which alerted Morty as he came out to check up on the two. He knew Summer and Rick wouldn’t give a rats ass, so he had to take care of it by himself. 

Morty emitted little noises of fear and distress as he tried to interrupt his intoxicated pair of abhorrent parents. The kid tried to butt in, gently tugging on Beth’s wrist to try and lead her back into her room to cool off. 

“D-D-Dad...c-c’mon...go home….” Morty pleaded softly. 

“I paid the rent here! It should- this house? It should belong to _me_. Cause _your-_ ”

He pointed at Beth, glaring.

“ _Father_ doesn’t do shit here! He’s corrupting this family! And you’re too _stupid_ to see!”

Morty flinched violently as his mom started screaming. Afraid the two would get physical, he started pushing Jerry away. No one noticed that Rick had quietly entered the kitchen in a huff, the old man only making an appearance to grab a beer from the fridge.

“D-Dad stop! Let’s go!”

“Fuck off you **pathetic** piece of shit!” Jerry slapped him roughly, the kid stumbling backwards in shock.

There was silence for a short moment.

“ _Jerry_.” Rick growled, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping the neck of his bottle.

Jerry turned around sheepishly, staring at the old man as the genius slowly walked towards his son in law.

Beth was still, as was Morty. Rick was abnormally quiet, which was extremely out of character. Only Morty knew that when Rick was this calm he was...genuinely homicidal.

Jerry, of all people, _Jerry_ , had the nerve to hit a child. _His_ child. 

The drunken man started backing away, but he grabbed Morty’s wrist and tugged him close to his body.

“You can’t hurt me without hurting Morty.” Jerry slurred, cocky as his fear dissipated.

Rick was trembling, his teeth grit as his eye twitched. Beth backed away, realizing how pissed off her father was. When he was irritated, he’d yell. But when he was livid, he’d get quiet.

“Let. Go.” He demanded, starting to reach out for Morty, who in return held his hand out for Rick to take him away.

Jerry decided to act in his pathetic warning, the inebriated man grabbing a wine bottle on the counter next to him. He promptly hit it over Morty’s head, the kid immediately collapsing to the floor with a loud thud as the glass shattered.

Morty lay there on the ground, stumbling in and out of consciousness. He could vaguely make out Rick going ballistic, punching and slapping, screaming and swearing coming from the old man. 

Blackness.

A voice that he deduced was his sister also started screaming, and he could feel her hands gripping his shoulders, shaking them slightly. 

Blackness.

He could feel something warm oozing down his face, which he tiredly came to the conclusion that it was blood mixed with wine. Morty could hear violent thudding, unbeknownst to him, that was Rick slamming Jerry’s head on the floor over and over. He heard his grandpa telling Summer to take care of Beth, to put her in her room and lock them in there. 

“But what about Morty!” Summer demanded, the old man huffing as he crouched down next to his grandson.

Morty felt her soft hands depart from his face, only to be replaced with cold, calloused ones. He could feel Rick’s fingers tremble, his thumbs rubbing soft circles on his cheeks.

“L-Leave us be.”

“But-”

“ _Go_.” 

Morty could make out crying from Beth and Summer as they held each other, the two exiting the room as they left an unconscious Jerry behind. 

“Morty...Morty wake up.” Rick breathed, his knuckles stroking his grandson’s cheek. 

It took a moment, but Morty managed to slowly open his eyes, the boy groaning softly in pain.

“Thank god.” Rick murmured, bowing his head as it rested gently on Morty’s shoulder. 

As the kid became fully conscious, he noticed that the old man was straddling him, Rick gently picking out glass shards from his curly hair.

“Rick?” Morty whimpered, his eyes half lidded.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. I’m here.” His grandpa reassured gently.

“Do you remember anything?”

Morty’s eyebrows furrowed as he closed his eyes, thinking hard.

“K-Kinda. Mhm.”

He opened his eyes, looking up at Rick who was hovering over him. 

“We need to get you cleaned up.” He muttered, getting up off of Morty. 

Rick gently maneuvered him into his arms, picking the boy up like he weighed nothing. Morty’s head rested on his chest, his feeble hand gently gripping onto the old man’s shirt.

“Don’t let go.” He whined quietly as Rick started to prop him up on the kitchen counter.

“Shh shh, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Rick’s voice was soft and sweet. “I’m here. I’m not leaving. I’m not leaving you.”

Morty huffed quietly as Rick released him from his grasp.

“Here, look at me.” The scientist tilted Morty’s chin up. “Yeeep. You have a bad concussion. Your right pupil is bigger than your left one.”

Morty’s breath stuttered as he clutched Rick’s arm.

“I need to go to the ER.”

“You’re fine.” Rick rolled his eyes, and this is where his aloof facade came into play.

The kid gently took the old man’s hand in his, placing Rick’s palm on his cheek. This made Rick’s fingers twitch as well as the side of his mouth. He quickly retracted his hand, glaring at his grandson.

“Morty, you’re overly affectionate b-because you’re _scared_. And grandpa Rick here saved the day. Stop being so clingy and let me clean you up.”

Morty emitted a pathetic whimper, the genius looking up to see his small frame quivering. He looked so confused, and hurt. Morty didn’t understand how Rick could be so tender with him one moment, then such an asshole the next. 

“C-Can you just...just this _once_...be nice to me.”

Rick snorted.

“I just can’t believe you’re _this_ upset over your parents fighting. N-N-No one should be upset over Jerry. He’s just, he’s just pathetic.” Rick muttered in his apathetic, unimpressed voice.

Morty was about to yell at him for being so insensitive towards him, but he could feel his grandpa’s hands trembling as he was picking out glass from his hair again.

He also noticed how Rick’s nostrils twitched and how the old man was grinding his teeth, very subtle ways that indicated that he was incredibly stressed out. 

But Morty was still upset.

“Wh-Why can’t you just outright say, ''Are you okay?” is it that hard?”

Rick looked at him with a bored expression before he left to find medical supplies under the kitchen sink. He came back wordlessly, sighing in a petulant way as he grabbed some cotton balls and cream.

“ _Jesus_ , Rick! Would you even care if I died?” Morty weakly punched Rick arm.

The scientist just chewed on his bottom lip, thinking of some retort that could keep up with his facade, but one that wouldn’t devastate his grandson.

“O-Oh my god.” Morty whimpered, looking down as his eyes glazed over in tears at the sound of silence.

“ _Yes,_ I would care.” Rick finally mumbled, meddling in the medical kit.

“Fuck you!” His grandson spat, startling Rick.

“Y-Y-You don’t give a shit about _anyone_ ! I-I-I got- I’m really hurt! I’m- I’m hurting! I could die! _I could have died!_ And you can’t even say “Are you okay?” Cause you don’t! You don’t love- you don’t love anyone! You can’t! And-And no one can love _you_!” Morty wailed, rubbing his wet eyes with both trembling hands.

Rick was taken aback by his outburst, he remained quiet for a moment before he spoke.

“Morty…” He placed his hand on the kid’s shoulder.

“D-Don’t touch me!” Morty cried, trying to shrug off his hand unsuccessfully.

“Morty, just-” Rick sighed gently, thinking for a moment. 

“Hey, listen.” He tried again, tentatively cupping Morty’s cheek, his other hand tilting his grandson’s chin up so he could face him. 

“If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t be bandaging you up, okay?”

Morty’s glare dropped into a pitiful stare. He sniffled softly, sighing shakily as he blinked away tears.

“I-I’m sorry for what I said, Rick. I…”

Rick stood there, gently rubbing his thumb up and down on Morty’s wet cheek as the two were silent for a while.

“I know...I know I can be prickly. And distant. But...there’s a reason for that.” He muttered, looking away from the other. 

“A reason that you don’t understand, but should appreciate.” Rick sighed, retracting his hand.

Before he completely dropped his arm, Morty reached out and grabbed his hand.

“Can you tell me how you feel? Look me in the face.” Morty sniffled, the last of his tears oozing down his clammy cheeks as his gentle hands held Rick’s.

The old man’s breath stuttered as he nervously looked around, anywhere _but_ his grandson. 

“Rick, please. T-Tell me why…” Morty pleaded quietly, squeezing his hand a little.

The genius sighed shakily, his head dropping as he stiffened.

“My...feelings...are complicated.” He muttered after a very long silence.

“You-You can’t be wrapped up in them. I-I have to keep myself distant from it. Distant from...you, at times. I can’t get too attached.”

“But why?” Morty whimpered.

“Because I don’t want you hurt!” Rick’s head snapped up, his grandson squeaking softly in surprise.

“I don’t want aliens hurting you to hurt me, and-and I... _I_ ...don’t want to hurt you! It’s complicated it’s _messy_ and it’s _ugly_ and you could never understand!” He jerked his hand back.

Morty’s breath shuttered as his small frame quivered, the tears woven in his irises fell apart at the seams and down his flushed cheeks once more. 

“Don’t…” Rick pleaded, his face morphing into one of grief. “Don’t cry I- I can’t...I can’t take it. I can’t-”

The kid sobbed softly, looking absolutely devastated by what his grandpa was saying. He cried into his hands, emitting noises of stress and pain.

“Morty. Pl-Please don’t cry, you don’t know what it does to me.” Rick begged. 

But his grandson didn’t stop. 

“Wh-Why can’t you just be hon-honest with me!” The boy wailed, not accepting the scientists pathetic excuse.

“Oh my god.” Morty sobbed into his hands. “Oh my god! I just want to kill myself!” He was hyperventilating, coughing as he tried to steady himself. 

And all Rick could do was watch.

He inhaled deeply, and refused to overthink this _again_ as many scenarios played out in his mind already. Everytime they were together. Every. Time. He had these thoughts, and the urges to act on them.

And now, he allowed himself to, whether he was truly ready to or not. 

Rick took both sides of Morty’s face, and without hesitation, he passionately crashed his lips into his grandson’s. He was squeezing his eyes shut, noticing Morty’s shocked squeak, and he held onto another moment or two before he shakily pulled away. 

Rick panted softly as he looked at the boy, whose eyes were wide and wild with foreign sensations from familial people. The genius stepped back as Morty stared at him, blinking as his jaw hung from his mouth in immense confusion. He whimpered softly, snapping the old man into action.

Now, Rick’s mind started to work. 

He needed to leave, and never, _ever_ , come back. 

Everything he worked up here, all the achievements he’s made, all the memories this house held between him and his grandson, he had to leave behind now. Immediately. Rick could never look Morty in the face again. And oh, god, what was _Morty_ thinking about all of this? What were his thoughts?

Assault

Disgust

Creeped out

Fear

Rage

Confusion 

Rick was listing off negative emotions in his mind, not noticing Morty lean towards him despite looking straight at him. He vaguely registered hands on his collar as the old man was suddenly pulled close, soft lips meeting his in a much less forceful act. But it was just as shocking and unexpected. 

The kiss was much more tender, but it still felt as passionate as the first one did. All too soon, Morty pulled away, and the two were left breathless. 

“A-Ah..haa...hh...aah. Okay.” Rick mumbled in a trance state. 

The boy just hummed softly in return. 

“So…ehm...huh...alright.”

“I’ve never seen your brain not work.” Morty laughed quietly, snapping Rick out of his haze. 

“Shut up.” He mumbled, crossing his arms. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

Rick’s deep frown softened as he saw how much Morty’s eyes lit up, and the grin that coincided with the marvelous display. The pink that dusted his cheeks was prevalent, more so than the blood smeared on his forehead.

“Y-....You know, I’m always going to take care of you.” Rick started, softly trailing off.

“I know.” Morty replied, equally as gentle. “And I’m always going to take care of you, too.”

Rick naturally felt like retorting to that, to defy that statement, but he currently felt…

Acceptance. Harmony. 

He carefully rested his forehead against Morty’s, the two closing their eyes as they were quiet. 

This time, Morty was satisfied with Rick’s answer. 

**Author's Note:**

> I...actually don’t really like this story! but! I figured someone might :•)


End file.
